What do you do when life hands you lemons?
You grab a bottle of vodka and make one hell of a martini.

I'd been through the fire and come out a diamond. I was the owner of my destiny. Yeah that worked for about a minute. Right up until the day Nathan Alexander sent his stupid letter to my office. Then it was like someone had opened up a bag of marbles in a mine field. The life I had worked so hard to rebuild quickly started falling to pieces. Everything that meant anything to me was being snatched from my hands. Bit by bit the storm came raging. All the weakness from my past came creeping back. And any glimpse of hope I had for my future, for my son's future, was blowing away with the wind.

That's when I decided to go to him for help. United States Senator, Nick Knight. He is completely unexpected. His mere presence commands attention. He is everything I never thought I'd have. Everything I never knew I even wanted. He calms my storm. He quiets my soul. Even without knowing my secrets, he comforts me. But he has secrets too. Demons he drinks away at night. Maybe we can save each other.

Suddenly I'm tired of planning. Tired of running. Ready to feel.
Then reality slaps me in the face. Hard. And I am reminded that feelings have consequences...

~Heidi~
Two hours later I’m in bed relaxed and reading. Thanks to Alex and my weekly orgasm. He definitely fucked me. My body pinned against the wall, his shorts around his ankles, both of us breathing hard and sweating as he pounded me with an almost painful determination. I’m just about to fall asleep when I hear a knock on my door. So he decided to come over after all. It’s strange to me because Alex knows when Hudson is home, there’s pretty much a standing Do Not Disturb sign on my front door. But I get up to answer anyway, guessing the quickie at the gym wasn’t enough to hold him over till next week.
I open the door just a crack and find none other than Nick Knight standing outside. What the f-bomb is he doing here? He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans and just standing there with one hand braced against the door jamb.
“Nick.” I’m sure my voice sounds shaky and confused. Most likely because I am shaky and confused. How the hell did he get in? Then I remember giving him the gate code last week when he brought me to get my spare key.
“Heidi,” he replies. He smells like he took a bath in a barrel of whiskey. I can’t believe he drove like this. In traffic. And made it in one piece.
I reach out my hand to him. “Here. Come inside.” I open the door a little wider to welcome him in.
Nick moves his eyes over my body, making me suddenly self-conscious. I forgot I’m in my usual t-shirt and panty combo. Cut me some slack. I thought it was Alex at the door.
“Were you expecting someone else?” he inquires, reading my mind. The Twilight Zone theme song plays faintly in the background. Okay, that’s just weird.Yes.
“No,” I lie.
“Do you always answer the door dressed like this?” Yes. But it’s usually just Alex or Shelly and neither one of them care. I don’t have visitors.
“No,” I lie again. “But then again I don’t usually have visitors at 10:00 at night.” I step back behind the door.
He decides to come inside, closing the door behind him, leaving nothing for me to hide behind. So I just stand there. What else is there to do? The damage is done. Besides, I’m sure he’s seen plenty of women in their underwear. Hotter women. Sexier women. It’s not like I belong in a Victoria’s Secret catalog or anything. It’s just me. Heidi. He moves to stand directly in front of me. His eyes are dark and serious. He traces his index finger along the side of my face then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
I’m nervous. I’m confused. I am glad to see him but have an overwhelming suspicion I should proceed with caution.
“Heidi,” he says again. Like he’s reminding himself that’s my name. He is definitely drunk. I’m halfway there just breathing the same air.
“Are you okay?” He’s kind of freaking me out. He’s touching me. I’m half naked. He’s been drinking and I have no idea why he’s here.
“Tell me, are you fucking him?” His hand has moved from my face to my arm now. His touch is gentle yet his tone is anything but. Normally that question, in that tone, would send me running for the hills. Too many memories of accusations ending badly. But I’m not afraid of Nick. I can sense that his question comes from a different place. Not the usual I’m asking because it hurts my inflated male pride place. This feels like it’s more from the, I’m asking because it hurts my feelings kind of place. He’s running his fingertips from my shoulder to my elbow and back up again as he speaks. It’s an intimate gesture. One I could definitely get used to.
His question catches me off guard. “What? Who? What are you talking about?”
“You know who. The chef. Busy hands, wandering eyes, smart mouth” he spells out.
What the hell? And why is this any of his business? We aren’t dating. We aren’t sleeping together. He has no justification in asking me something like that and I definitely don’t owe him an answer. But I feel like I need to tell him the truth. Why do I feel that way? I have no idea. Why is he even asking me this question? I have no idea.
“No. I’m not.” I’m hoping this pacifies him.
His hand stills at the top of my shoulder. He cocks his head to the side and studies me for a minute. I’m thinking maybe he’s trying to figure out if I’m telling him the truth. I lean forward on my tip-toes and run the tip of my nose along the outline of his jaw up to his ear. My lips are slightly parted so he can feel my breath on his skin. He stands completely still as I move back down to his chin, my nose barely skimming his bottom lip. I lift my chin just enough for my open mouth to hover over his. Nick parts his lips as well. We both remain still. Just breathing each other in. I close my eyes and move ever so slightly to one side and softly kiss the corner of his mouth. Then I lower myself back down and look up at him, allowing him the chance to make the next move. If there is a next move. Please let there be a next move.
“Fuck,” he swears. More to himself than to me. “I’m sorry. That was none of my business. I need to go.”
“Nick, you really shouldn’t be driving right now.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Now, Ms. Lemaire. Are you suggesting I stay here?”
I roll my eyes and take a step back. If I keep standing that close to him, I’ll be asking him to do more than just stay here. “No. I’m offering to call you a cab,” I say, attempting to convince both of us that’s what I really want to do.
He inches his way back close to me. “Or you could just give me a ride,” he says with that sexy little half smirk I’ve grown to adore.
His hand inches down my arm to my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine and he pulls me even closer to him. I want this. Good god do I want it. But not this way. Hudson is sleeping in the other room. Nick has had way too much to drink. And I’m not that girl.
I lay my forehead against his chest and inhale his woodsy, masculine scent. “Nick,” I say, the word a near whisper leaving my lips. I want to tell him he should go. I want to ask him to stay. I’ve never not known what I wanted this much in my life. I look up at him hoping to find some sort of answer to my internal contradiction.
He looks down at me and grins. “Maybe another time,” he says. “I really need to get going.”
We spend several seconds looking at each other. It reminds me of when I was in eighth grade and had the you hang up, no you hang up, conversations with my boyfriend. One of us needs to hang up, and since I’m the only one functioning with all of my brain cells at the moment, I decide it should be me. I walk to the door and turn the knob. Nick stops just in front of me and gives me a final once over before walking out. He graces me with one more beautiful, beaming white smile.
“I’ll see you soon Heidi,” he promises.
I respond by returning his smile with my own and watching from the doorway as he climbs into the back seat of a big, black SUV.
It’s two a.m. when I finally stop thinking of him long enough to fall asleep.
~Nick~
She opened the door in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. My first instinct was to shove her against the wall and take what I went there for. Then my mind started to wander. Who the fuck answers the door half naked? What if I had been a stranger? Or a burglar. There’s no way she’s protecting herself dressed like that. Wait. What if she wasn’t surprised by the knock? What if she was expecting someone else? Whoever she left Jackson Street with that Saturday night. The chef seemed pretty cozy with her. Is she fucking him? My mind was racing but all I cared about was seeing what I was up against. I had no right to ask. I have no claim to her. She doesn’t belong to me. But I wanted her to. Right then, at that moment, in her oversized t-shirt and messy hair piled on top of her head. God she looked so innocent. So vulnerable. Nothing like the all work and no play Heidi that comes to my office asking me if I’m okay. Worrying about me. I knew then that I have to make her mine. Then, she does this fucking thing with her mouth. This thing where it felt like she was touching me. Kissing me all over my face. But in reality it was just her breath. Soft, sweet, and hot. Everywhere. My dick was hard as a fucking rock at that point. I swear it was some sort of voodoo brainwashing bullshit because I have been walking around with a perma-rection ever since. It took all I had in me to lasso in every ounce of self-control so I didn’t take her right then and there. I know that’s what I went there to do, but something changed. Seeing her that way, outside of the fierce business woman. Seeing her vulnerable. That was a game changer. No. When I take her, it won’t be because of an alcohol induced testosterone overload. She’ll want it just as much as I do. In fact, she’ll beg me for it.

Delaney Foster is a wife, mother, and lover of all things romantic. She is a true Southern Belle who enjoys a glass of wine after a long day and Saturdays at the baseball park. In her stories you will find sexy alpha males, strong women, and a love story worth staying up past your bedtime for.